


Reports of your death (were an exaggeration)

by lokkatattur



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Enemies to Lovers, FrostIron - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Loki/Tony - Freeform, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Shamelessness, Snark, Sortof, Tony/Loki - Freeform, gratuitious runons, hopeless idiots being hopeless, seriously, so many run-ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-05 13:42:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1094552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokkatattur/pseuds/lokkatattur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's all fun and games until someone gets emotionally attached. Then it's hilarious.</p><p>(Contains Thor 2 spoilers.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reports of your death (were an exaggeration)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Midnight_Ophelia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midnight_Ophelia/gifts).



> My submission to Frostironfest, for Midnight_Ophelia. (midnight-ophelia on Tumblr)
> 
> Prompt(s): "Enemies with benefits." & "After the events of Thor 2, Loki visits Tony on earth. Secretly."

It wouldn’t be a Stark gala without the Stark. 

   Or at least, that’s what Pepper had told him after she smacked him aside the head with a clipboard. Ok, _yes_ , he had been sleeping at a board meeting, and yes, the meeting was about said Stark gala, but _still_.

   Still. That was the phrase he was repeating to himself now, as he presented his person and his fundraising purposes to the gathered crowd from atop the rented hall’s dramatically wide staircase. There was a speech to be made, and after coaxing and hand waving for the better part of an hour it was done. A thunderous applause followed, naturally, and the billionaire philanthropist knew his work had gone off without a hitch. 

   His cunning escape plan, however, was not as successful.

“Tony!” A woman’s voice reached out to him from the ballroom floor, and Tony turned to see Pepper hit the stairs like a linebacker in training. Damn, but she was fast. “Tony, hang on a second!” Tony decided it was probably pretty dick to make her climb all those stairs in heels, and started down to meet her halfway. 

   Well, a quarter of the way at least. She really was quite fast.

“Hey,” Pepper said, breathing hard.

“Hey,” Tony replied, looking her over. She had her hair curled and left to hang loose about her shoulders, and she was wearing a warm, cream colored gown that suited her complexion well. Tony wondered if it was something he had bought for her while they were still together. The fact that he couldn’t even remember was probably one of the reasons everything had fallen apart in the first place. It definitely was.

   Tony was not a man ignorant to his own failings, he knew his flaws. The mad inventor had been and always would be, too much in too many places, and not enough in all the important ones. 

   He decided the gown suited Pepper way too perfectly to be something he had picked out for her himself. “You look good, Pep.” He said.

“Thank you, I picked up after the board meeting.” She answered, turning a shrewd gaze upon him. “You look good, too.” She smiled.

   Tony raised his eyebrows. “Do I?”

“Yes, you do. Is it not true?” She questioned, concern creeping onto her face, which was never a good thing. 

   Keeping his tone light, reassuring, Tony responded, “No, it is, I am.”

“Are you sure?” Pepper persisted.

   Tony threw up his hands, placating, “Yes, Pep. I’m good. For real.”

   She gave him another shrewd look, this time with what looked to be even more concern. “Well, all-right then. How about you come down to Malibu sometime. I haven’t seen you  properly in months, and I’ve got a truckload of paperwork for you to sign.” Which Tony knew was just her way of manipulating him into some facetime, but he _also_ knew he probably needed that anyway.

   The thing was, Pepper was a great girl, and Tony would doubtlessly be lost without her. But she was also a _good_ girl.

Perhaps too good. 

 

~~

 

   As soon as he got into the car, he told Happy to take him downtown. 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Sir? We’re still not completely over the press from that stunt you pulled last week.” Happy said, with the tone of a man who knows his advice is about to be completely ignored.

   And it was. 

_Completely ignored._

~~

 

   Tony was about ten drinks deep and making eyes at the ginger female bartender when a smooth, vaguely familiar voice slid in through the haze.

“Is this seat taken?” The voice asked, and Tony turned to find its owner, tall dark and viciously overdressed for a city bar.

“Loki.” Tony said his name like it was an accusation, and Loki merely hummed in agreement. “What are you here for?” He asked.

“I’m out collecting my debts.” Loki replied, sliding onto the stool to his left. “I believe I was promised a drink?” Loki’s tone was nonchalant, but his eyes were alight with amusement. 

   Tony sighed, “No I _offered_ you a drink, you refused. The offer wasn’t open-ended.” He glanced sideways to see Loki’s eyes turn away from him and glance about the room instead. 

   The inventor decided, at this point, to take one for the team, and hopefully stop the egomaniac from doing something tragic out of boredom. 

   He motioned for the bartender, “So, what do you like, anyway?” 

“Surprises.”

   Loki’s eyes were practically glowing.

 

~~

 

   It was around the time Tony lost count on drinks that the conversation began to get  truly interesting. The billionare playboy shifted in his seat to face his drinking companion more directly, and give him a nice, long once-over. The god truly was _filthy_ levels of overdressed. His hair was slicked back, just as it had been back when he was riding on flying alien snowmobiles trying to take over manhattan. It had grown longer, though, and with length came loose, thick waves. He was wearing a close-tailored, soft black three-piece, and a deep forest-green overcoat with a stupidly tall collar, and what looked to be the exact same leather boots from his time as an Evil Overlord.

   Basically, the god looked like one of Alexander McQueen's victorian gothic models. Tony brushed genetics that were _unfair_  aside, and caught Loki's eye. 

“So aren’t you supposed to be rotting away in a cell somewhere right now?” He leaned into Loki’s space interrogatively. “I mean, Thor’s be around here a couple times and he says you are definitely getting your jail cell on up in Asgard right now.”

   Loki looked suitably put out. “My body does not _rot_ post mortum, Stark, it freezes over.” He leaned into the threat Tony’s body had been attempting to impose, “And just because I am confirmed to be in one place at the moment does not mean I can not also be in many others.” He smiled and Tony leaned away from the sight of it.

"Freezes over, though?" Tony pressed, genuinely fascinated. "I mean, what, why? _How?_ Does Thor's do that?"

   Loki's grip upon the glass of his cocktail tightened for a moment, cocked his head to the side, and then his elegant features stilled. "No, Thor's would not do such a thing. The ice is my own. It is because I am Jotun." He said the word like it was a disliked vegetable dish.

"Jotun?" Tony prompted, intrigued beyond reason.

"Yes. Frost Giant. A race apart from the Aesir. Fond of ice." As Loki spoke the index finger on his left hand turned cerulean blue, and touched the side of Tony's scotch tumblr, and the entire surface frosted over. When he drank from the glass, Tony found the liquor inside to be chilled through, quite evenly. Brilliant.

“Ok, wait. Back to the original question. Is this all an elaborate hallucination I’m having right now? Are you in my head, like, am I sitting at a bar talking to myself right now? ‘Cuz the press for that is going to be a fucking nightmare.” Tony muttered as his mind spun with possibilities. 

   Loki waved his hand through the air, banishing Tony’s conjecture to the wind with the movement. “No, Stark, I am not in your mind, nor am I invisible. The others at this bar see a beautiful woman in my place. You see me as you do, and as to wether or not I am _actually_ here, I shall leave that, up in the air, as they say.”

   Tony groaned for a question unanswered, and then proceeded to pose more. “Fine, keep your secrets. So, the metaphysics on weather you are _here_ aside, really, I must repeat my original question, what are you here for?”

“I imagine your guess to be as good as mine, Stark.” Loki replied softly, turing his attention back to his drink.

   Tony was, predictably, unfettered. “Well, _my_ guess involves a lot of screaming civilians, fire and defenestration. What’s yours?”

“That depends. Do you find your guess appealing?” Loki replied, soft and dangerous, and Tony was lifted at least partially out of his drunkenness to remind himself that he was effectively playing with fire. Angry, godly fire.

“Listen,” The inventor began, “While I know this admission may be met with borderline traumatic shock and disbelief, I don’t actually enjoy being almost killed.”

“You are as adorably bold as I remember you, Stark.” Loki said, leaning forward into Tony’s space, this time. “Perhaps I’m here for the same reason as you, a chance to _release_ after a long day at work with the world.” On the word ‘release,’ Loki had grabbed Tony’s tie and gently pulled him forward.

“No,” Tony replied. 

   Loki raised his brow, but the inventor continued, “No, condescension is _not_ the proper way to come on to someone, and no, just because you keep saying my name in that posh accent at the end of all your fucked up little sentences doesn’t mean I’m gunna take you home with m-” 

   Tony was cut off before he could finish by Loki’s sudden, swift relocation into a space way, _way_ inside his comfort zone. Loki’s right hand was curled about the inventor’s waist, his mouth not touching Tony’s, but hovering so close he could feel the static lifting the hairs along his skin.

   Another moment of this maddening closeness, and Loki’s fingers grasped his jaw, but didn’t pull their lips together. Instead, Loki turned his face aside to whisper in the inventors ear. 

“ _Take me_ , you were saying?” And then Loki pulled his filthy mouth away from the human’s ear, and replaced it with a gaze that was somehow even more lecherous. 

   It made Tony think long and hard about his decision making skills. He decided he liked bad decisions more than he had previously thought, shifted his demeanor with all the ease of a stage actor, and threw the mad god a look of his own.

“I was saying, should I tell my driver to come around back or are you just going to hand wave us back to your evil lair?” 

 

~~

 

   Tony had just barely replied when the world collapsed and rebuilt itself around them, folding out into what was either his own, real master bedroom in Stark tower, or a psychopathically detailed replica.  “Or my evil lair, I guess.” He continued.

   Loki tutted in annoyance.

“What?” Tony asked.

   Loki merely repeated the sound, slighty more mocking. “You shame the term.” He said. 

“So do you, prince of daddy issues.” Tony replied, because that was just not fair at all. To which Loki, obviously, threw him a very dirty glare and gazed pointedly at the tall glass windows.

“Fine, fine.” Tony threw up his hands in surrender. “My lair of vaguely righteous intentions. See, it just doesn’t carry the same weight.” Tony began to look about the room, turning sheets and lifting baubles from the dressers. 

“Seriously, is this actually my house? The fact that you can do this is more than a bit horrifying, no really, like, I’m actually disturbed.” Tony continued talking as he rummaged through what really did appear to be his own room. 

   Loki grabbed him firmly about the shoulders, and walked him _very_ firmly backwards onto the mattress, where he then shot his hands forward and threw Tony upon it without warning. “Anthony Stark, you will be silent or so help me, I will make you so.” His tone was exasperated, bordering on angry. The god was clearly near his limit. 

But Tony was way too high to heed the warning in Loki’s tone. This was the craziest thing he’d done in months, _years,_ even, and he wanted more. He leered obscenely up at Loki and taunted, “How you gunna do that?” Which was probably a horrible idea.

Yep. 

His mouth was now a closed zipper.

 

~~

 

   In the morning Tony awoke to find himself lying huddled into the far corner of his bed, naked and uncovered. A glance to his left saw Loki passed out face down in the bedsheets, occupying all of the covers, and most all of the space.

   Tony Stark kicked the God of Mischief in his ribs. “Ok, so while last night was extremely very _fucking amazing,_ the zipper-mouth thing can not happen again. That was some beetle-juice shit and it is not kosher.” Tony whined. 

“You showed no signs of psychological distress over it when we were together.” Loki replied, blinking sleep from his eyes.

   Tony shifted to take back more of the bed. “Yea, ‘cuz you had your hand on my dick.” He replied. “Also, is that literally your way of saying, ‘That’s not what you said last night,’ because you know you could just actually say, ‘That’s not what you said last night.’”

   Loki ignored Tony’s attempts to reclaim the comforter. “So you would see me again?” He asked. “Knowing that I will continue to be your adversary, in the future.” Loki released his hold on the comforter and rolled atop the inventor in one swift motion. 

“Yea, like when?” Tony asked. The inventor had, upon waking, thought a bit more seriously about his decision to sleep with Loki. All things considered, merely sleeping with the god would harm no one but himself. And it wasn’t like Tony could turn him in to SHEILD or anything. Loki was _currently_ incarcerated. At least this way, he could sort-of keep tabs on the man.

 

   Loki rested his weight fully upon the mortal beneath him, leaning in close. “When it amuses me.”

“Like when you’re out of jail?” Tony said.

   The Liesmith put his mouth over Tony’s ear once again to reply, “Oh, _definitely._ ”

 

~~

 

   There was a lot of sex after that. Like, a lot. Tony could recognize that it was getting to the point where he should probably seek out professional help. Or tell someone. 

   Loki came to him almost every other night. Sometimes just to fuck him senseless and then teleport to wherever it was he went when he wasn’t with Tony, and sometimes he would stay, so they could go again in the morning.

    Sometimes, Tony imagined confessing his sins to Pepper or Rhodey or _someone,_ just to alleviate some of the guilt. He would imagine telling Pep, _“Hey, I’m having gratuitous sex with Thor’s brother while he’s somehow also still in prison.”_ And then Pepper would look shocked, appalled, and disapproving, and she would say, _“Tony, you simply can’t be having sex with someone who’s currently incarcerated for attempted genocide.”_ And he’d say, _“But there’s nothing he can really do right now to hurt anybody except for, well, visit me, and fuck me, and chill my drinks, and teleport us, and okay, yea, I can actually see the point of contention here...”_

    It was at that point in his considerations that Loki usually appeared out of thin air in a cloud of green smoke like the Wicked Witch of the West, and threw him up against the nearest flat surface.

 

~~

 

   Loki appeared in the penthouse so often, and at such random intervals, that he once arrived in Tony’s bedroom at four in the morning, while the inventor was trying to sleep. Loki had shaken him awake harshly with an angry whisper, “What are you doing, Stark?” 

   Tony woke up just enough to register vaguely what was happening, groaned, and buried his face back in the mattress. “Sssllleeping, goddammit!” He slurred. “ What the fuck, man.”

“Why?” Loki spat, sounding somehow both curious and offended, like sleeping was some disturbing alien concept.  

   Tony rolled onto his back to glare at the spoilt god. “Because I am a _human,_ and I actually need to, sometimes. Now get out of my house. What are you, Edward fucking Cullen or some shit?”

“No, Stark, you do not sleep. That’s so...” Loki frowned, and appeared to be searching for a word. “So _common_.” 

   Loki said ‘common’ like most people might say ‘leprosy.’ He reached his hand to Tony’s brow, whispered something unintelligible, and a sudden surge of adrenaline shot through the inventor like a bolt of lightning.

   He also became hard.

 

~~

 

   After three rounds it was nearly 8am, and Tony really, _really_ needed to sleep at this point. So, of course, he no longer wanted to.

“So, to what did I owe this extremely gratifying after-midnight visit?” Tony asked.

“I was bored. I find you amusing.” Loki replied, hand trailing along the inventors spine.

   Tony leaned into the touch, “Most people do, on some level. But they don’t all tell me to put my dick in their mouth at four AM.” 

   Loki sighed, the most long-suffering of sighs, “Need you always be this obscenely simplistic.”

“Yes, absolutely.” Tony gave the God of Lies his best shit-eating grin. 

   The mad god chuckled, low and deep, and then paused; gazing through the windowed wall and out into the night sky. Tony was beginning to worry he was about to be defenestrated again when Loki turned back to him. “I enjoy your company, Stark.”

“Thank you.” Tony tried for a nonchalant tone, but it had come out all wrong. Too raw, too genuine, and he knew it. They both knew it. Tony began to panic. 

   Something should be said to steamroll over this wreckage of honesty, _needed_ to be said. Tony needed to say something-

“Go to sleep, Stark.”  His racing thoughts were interrupted. Loki drew his hand away from the human’s back and traced a finger along his hairline, whispering something he couldn’t quite catch, and Tony’s mind embraced the ignorance of sleep.

 

~~

 

   After that, Loki did not show up anywhere in or around Tony's house for more than three weeks.

Tony was definitely not bored. He sure as hell wasn't concerned, either.

 

~~ 

 

It was, actually, a pretty regular night when Thor told the Avengers that his brother had died.

“What?” Tony had asked, incredulous.

   Thor had merely gazed on, shaking his head. “It is true, my friends. But I must ask you all not to show his soul any disrespect. Loki has died with honor.”

“Wait, you guys can’t actually die, though, you’re fucking mythical creatures.” Tony persisted. “Shouldn’t you have like a permanent get-out-of-jail-free card for that, or something?”

   But Thor continued with his stoic demeanor, “Sadly it is not so, Man of Iron. My brother, and my people live and die just as you do. Though we do live longer, and are built stronger than Midgardians, we can be mortally wounded in battle, as Loki was.” He said it softly, and with a tone of finality.

   As if that was to be close of the conversation. Thor did not know Tony well enough to know that he would never leave well enough alone.

“ _How?_ ” He asked. Natasha was looking at him in that way that meant he should probably stop talking.

   Thor looked away, uncomfortable. After a pause, the Thunder god took a quiet breath and uttered, just as quietly, “He was impaled through the chest with a blade.” And that was, that was...

   Well that was decidedly _not_ the image of closure Tony realized he had been looking for with that question. He stumbled backward, feeling as though he might be sick. Thor seemed to recognize this as well.

“Are you well, Tony?” He questioned, concern mixing with the sorrow on his face. The faces of the others were also swimming with a sortof curious worry. Tony began to back into the kitchen.

“I’m fine, I’m just, wow. I, _wow_ , you know? That’s rough. Do you want a drink, because i will drink to that.” The inventor scrambled through the cabinets for a bottle of his toughest liquor. Thor’s face lit up at the suggestion.

“Aye, my friend! Come, brothers and Lady Natasha! This is how it should be, we shall drink and make merry in honor of my brother!” Thor answered, and pulled up a chair at the table.

 

~~

 

Tony was out getting coffee.

   It had been a long, _long,_ night, and Tony was out getting coffee because sometimes the homemade shit was just not enough.

   He ordered several expressos and a hot chocolate from a ritzy cafe in midtown, and took a seat in the back. There was the distant jingle of the shops front door opening, but Tony hardly noticed, his attention intent upon the barista who preparing his order.

   Everything would be better with caffeine. A distant voice spoke to him, “Is this seat taken?” 

   Tony looked up so fast he gave himself whiplash. 

“Ahk!” Tony cried, rubbing at his neck and cursing Loki's name six ways to Sunday. “Oh god, you complete fucking _bastard._ ” He accused. 

   Loki offered a soft laugh in response, as the barista arrived with Tony’s multiple orders. Tony thought, at least now she was looking slightly less distressed about the amount of caffine he had ordered. The god swiped and immediately downed an expresso from the table, sat down across from him, and took hold of the hot chocolate while Tony recovered, slightly, and continued, “You know, while the sheer brilliance of you apparently being able to simultaneously get stabbed through the fucking chest without dying, and _also_ fake the very same death you managed to avoid is astounding, you need to be a bit more patient with the dramatic reveal.” Tony scolded, smacking Loki’s hand off the hot chocolate mug.

“I do?” Loki raised his brow dubiously.

“Yea, I mean, you couldn’t even wait a full 24 hours to come down here and show off.” Tony took a sip of his drink, which was heaven, and did make everything better. “I mean, I get it, you need me to worship your brilliance on a regular schedule, but seriously, a few more days and I might have even missed you, or something.” Because being an ass is what Tony will always do best.

“You speak the truth, Stark. However, it has been quite some time, since we’ve seen each other, and I shouldn’t dare put you, fragile human that you are, through such trauma for more than one day.” Loki replied, light as you please.

“Then don’t.” Tony answered, looking straight at the god, tone turning serious.

“Don’t what?” Loki asked.

“Don’t put me through it.” _Ever again._ Tony put the hot chocolate down and watched Loki’s eyes widen with a vague sense of both guilt and accomplishment. Loki merely studied him shrewdly. After a time, the god smiled, and leaned his torso over the table for a kiss.

“I suppose I shall do my level best.” He answered.

~~

 _Fin._             

**Author's Note:**

> I will preform sexual favors in exchange for comments/critiques/suggestions.
> 
> If you can't comment here, come to me on tumblr.  
> (Lokkatattur.tumblr.com)


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